


Moments of Joy

by Soledad



Series: Moments of Joy [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen, Slightly AU and getting more so in the process, Zelenka is awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-29 03:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17800523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soledad/pseuds/Soledad
Summary: The events in the Pegasus Galaxy, seen through the eyes of Dr. Radek Zelenka. This is the actual beginning of the series. Further parts are already posted here.





	1. Foreword

As I mentioned in the summary, this is the actual beginning of the "Moments of Joy" series. Originally, it was planned as a single story; slightly AU but taking place in almost the same settings as canon. Structurally seen I was planning to recapture certain canon events from Dr. Zelenka’s POV. For this reason, the individual chapters were titled after the respective episodes. However, I've changed my mind after four chapters into the story, and gave it up for a while in favour of writing short vignettes in the same settings. Or even whole stories.

As in those , Dr. Weir is here called Theresa and still played by the wonderful Jessica Steen. The personal background of Dr. Zelenka is entirely my creation: his age, his past, his family back on Earth and the new one in Atlantis. Up to the end of the actual series, canon failed to give us any solid facts to work with, but that provided us, fanfic writers, with the freedom to make up these facts for us.

In its current shape, the original story has been cut after Chapter 3. The rest of it will be integrated into shorter stories that take place in the same settings, leading up to "Trial Without Error" and a massive SGA/Andromeda crossover that will be soon posted here.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sevarion Kirkitadze has been modelled after an actual existing prosecuting attorney who plays himself in various German detective and court shows. So have the detectives Rietz and Naseband. Branco Vukovic plays a detective in the same shows but is an actor himself. I borrowed them from the shows because I wanted some non-military security for the German science team. Besides, they are great characters. The shows in question are “K-11” and “Richter Alexander Hold”.  
> The technobabble is made up from the scratch and is probably completely insane. Also, I’ve taken some creative licence with Dr. Grodin’s background.   
> Beta read by Purpleyin – my eternal gratitude to her for making the text sound something akin to English.

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***   
**CHAPTER 01**

**[Antarctica]**

He had been here for almost four months by now but still couldn’t get used to the cold. He _had_ known cold before, of course – he had spent a year in Russia, after all, as a member of the Stargate research group, which was how Rodney McKay had come to the idea of hiring him for the Antarctica project – but _this_ was different. Hell, the entire base was carved into a thick layer of ice, and even though their rooms did have real walls, ceilings and floors, made of some isolating material, the mere thought that he was practically living in an igloo like an Inuit made him shiver.

“How can you stand cold like this?” he asked Peter Grodin, whom he was helping to examine the ancient probe about which they couldn’t quite decide whether it was a sensor drone or some sort of doomsday weapon.

The handsome, dark-skinned man shrugged. “I’m from Canada. The city where I lived as a kid gets so cold in winter that even the streets have to be roofed over, or else the inhabitants would freeze to death.” 

“I thought you were English,” Radek said in surprise. Grodin nodded.

“Well, technically… but my parents used to work in Canada. They did so for more than a decade and I was born there. Anyway, we practically lived subterranean during winter months. Most passages and shopping centres and even the schools were built under the earth.”

Radek shivered, and this time not from the cold. “Must have felt like prison.”

“Actually, it always felt like a space station to me,” Grodin replied, trying to find a way to open the seemingly completely smooth outer shell of the probe – to ‘see what makes it tick’, as he had phrased before – without damaging it. “I’ve grown up on the original _Star Trek_ , you know. I used to imagine that my hometown was some deep space base. I even drew comics about my ‘space adventures’.” He laughed softly. “There wasn’t much else to do. That and ice hockey, of course.” 

“Of course,” Radek nodded in agreement. “Hockey. Great sport. Better than soccer, even.”

“You played hockey?” Grodin’s surprise was understandable. Hockey players were usually twice Radek’s size. At the very least.

Radek shrugged. “ _Everybody_ played hockey in our school. I wasn’t very good at it, though. Too small and skinny, they said. You surely did better.”

“I was… pretty average,” Grodin admitted. “Not bad, but never good enough. It used to bother me a great deal, so I tried to compensate by being good at science subjects,” he shrugged as well. “In the end, I think I’m better off so…”

“Yes, yes, you’re definitely better _off_ ,” Radek gave the probe a loving glance while Grodin groaned at his terrible attempt to joke; indeed, nobody could be more off the beaten path than they were. Not without using the Stargate, that is.

“Besides,” Radek added dreamily, “how else would we get to play with… whatever this is. Looks like water animal… you know, the one with eight arms? An octopus?”

“You mean a squid?” Grodin clarified with a grin. Radek nodded approvingly, several times.

“Yes, yes… a squid. I wonder if it has same propulsion system?”

“Radek,” Grodin rolled his eyes. “Squids don’t _have_ a propulsion system. They’re _animals_. This is a _machine_.”

“I know _that_ ,” Radek glared at him over the rim of his glasses impatiently. “But in the end, it’s simple mechanics, yes? A squid has same propulsion system as a rocket… only working with bioenergy, yes? It presses out water backwards to propel forwards. So, perhaps this probe, too, works the same way, eh?”

“Perhaps,” Grodin accepted reluctantly. To tell the truth, he found the idea rather far-fetched. “But what would get it started?”

“That,” Radek admitted thoughtfully, “is _very_ good question. We know that Ancient equipment often follows mental instructions. Perhaps we should ask Carson to give it a pat?”

Grodin snorted. “I think Carson is having bigger problems right now.”

Radek glanced over to the central cave that housed the infamous command chair of the Ancient weapon. The weapon that had saved the planet from the Goa’uld a couple of months earlier. He could see Doctors Beckett and McKay standing next to the chair, arguing. McKay seemed even more agitated than usual.

“Still no luck, eh?” he asked.

Grodin shook his head, but before he could have answer, he was interrupted by the intercom, announcing the arrival of General O’Neill in ten minutes. At the same moment, an elegant blonde woman walked up to them, wearing the utility suit of the Antarctica personnel. She was a good few inches taller than Radek, her short, wavy hair framing her face like a halo.

“Peter,” she nodded to Grodin as a way of greeting, “Doctor Zelenka. What’s up?”

“Rodney is trying to force Carson into command chair,” Radek summarized the situation for her. “We still have no idea about purpose of this probe.”

“You might want to play the voice of authority, Doctor Weir,” Grodin suggested, “or Rodney will waste his whole day with terrorising Doctor Beckett.”

The leader of the future Atlantis-expedition sighed and rolled her blue eyes. She could be quite intimidating if she chose to (which she seldom did), and in this she reminded Radek of his ex-wife. They both had long limbs, a slender stature and possessed the same timeless grace. They both belonged to the kind of women who even managed to age gracefully, barely changing between thirty and fifty. Granted, Alšběta had a prettier face, but Dr. Weir had more personality, which, in Radek’s opinion, made up for a certain hardness in her features.

They saw Dr. Beckett storming out of the ‘weapons chamber’, as the location of the command chair was nicknamed, muttering under his breath in some obscure Scottish dialect. Dr. Weir sighed again.

“You’re right, Peter. I need to have a word with Doctor McKay. This is counterproductive.”

She nodded and left them to their work. From the corner of their eyes, the two scientists could see her talking to Rodney McKay who seemed even more agitated than before, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. McKay was _always_ agitated when things weren’t running exactly as he wished.

A few minutes later Dr. Daniel Jackson jogged in, waving to Dr. Weir animatedly, and shepherded both her and McKay over to his own lab. Grodin and Radek exchanged a curious look.

“Do you think they’ve finally found Atlantis?” Grodin asked.

“Is about time,” Radek replied with a shrug. “Dr. Weir has been choosing members for this expedition for months. Calling people to her office to have a heart-with-heart to them.”

“A heart- _to_ -heart _with_ them,” Grodin corrected gently.

“ _Ano_ , thank you. Anyway, people keep going in and out of her office. Miko was called last week. Kavanagh four days ago. Simpson yesterday.”

“Then it must be your turn, soon,” Grodin said. “Tomorrow, perhaps. Or the day after.”

Radek shook his head. “I think not, Peter. Why should she want to invite _me_?”

“You’re very good at your field of expertise,” Grodin pointed out. “One of the best, in fact.”

“Perhaps,” Radek said. “But there are much bigger names among those who work on base. I’m more an engineer than a theoretical physicist. Why would they want to involve me?”

“Perhaps to have someone who could actually _start_ those Ancient machines, instead of opening a theoretical discussion about how they might possibly work,” Grodin offered. “It could prove useful if the equipment _worked_ , you know. And you are better at the practical side of things than anyone else here. You know that.”

Yes, he did know that. And it wasn’t as if he were _bad_ at the theory, either. He just preferred to be an engineer. To actually get his hands dirty with oily engine parts, repair circuits, take apart unknown pieces of equipment and then put them together again, so that they would work. To _see_ the results of his efforts.

“If I am as good as you say, I’d have gotten this thing up and running already,” he said. “Unless it truly requires ATA gene.”

“I don’t believe that’s the problem,” Grodin said. “I do have the gene, after all, but the thing wouldn’t react to me. Perhaps it’s not an independent machine but only part of something larger.”

“Then it must have some kind of interface for outside input,” Radek said. “We must keep looking for mechanical access plate.” He fished some small instrument out of one of his pockets. “What if we try surface scan?”

“We've already done _that_ ,” Grodin reminded him.

“Yes, yes, but only a general sweep. I want to go over probe with this hand scanner, micron by micron. Perhaps we’ll find something.”

Grodin sighed. “Be my guest. We have nothing to lose.”

“But much to gain,” Radek grinned, getting it already.

“You do realize that it could take hours, don’t you?” Grodin asked ominously. Radek shrugged.

“ _Bez práce nejsou koláče_ ,” he said in Czech, refusing to translate, as usual, because where would have been the fun in _that_? “But when I’ve finished scan, we could try…”

He didn’t get to finish. All of a sudden, the probe began to glow golden from the inside, literally swooshing out of his hands and zigzagging around the lab, hitting things that exploded violently in its wake. Radek felt his hands and the right side of his face burning. He looked at his hands and also felt like they were throbbing.

“ _Do prdele_ ,” he swore, blinking back tears of pain. “What happened?”

Grodin, who had instinctively thrown himself onto the floor, climbed back to his feet.

“I wish I knew,” he said. “That… thing just went off, without a warning, and is now busily destroying our lab.”

“Well, that answers one question,” Radek said. “It _is_ doomsday weapon.”

“Yeah,” Grodin replied, worried. “And one that we don’t seem to be able to turn off.”

They followed the flight path of the drone that way now rushing up the elevator shaft.

“Good Lord,” Grodin whispered, “Doctor Weir is in that lift cabin!”

To their relief, however, the probe passed the elevator without harming it, flew upwards and broke through the domed ceiling of the base, into airspace, followed by a powerful beam of energy. After redirecting the elevator to come back down, Dr. Weir was running back to the lab, up to the command chair and ordered Dr. Beckett to sit down and get the situation under control.

One of the technicians darted to the operations console and hit the alarm.

“Attention all inbound craft, we have a rogue drone that can seek a target on its own. Land immediately and shut down your engines. This is _not_ a drill. I repeat, we have...”

“Do you think that will help?” Radek asked quietly, while one of the med techs was cleaning his face and hands with antiseptic swipes.

“I hope so,” Grodin replied anxiously, “because Carson certainly doesn’t have this thing under control.”

Everyone listened with baited breath to the clipped conversation between Colonel O’Neill and his pilot coming from the comm system.

“It reminds me of times when we were listening to radio reports about disastrous events,” Radek commented softly. 

Grodin nodded, unable to answer.

Against all hope, less than a minute later, Carson Beckett actually managed to stop the Ancient weapon.

“That was close,” Grodin said, the colour slowly returning to his ash grey face. “I’d hate to lose General O’Neill. He’s one of the few military types who’ve come to value our efforts… even if he hardly ever understands what we’re doing.”

And Radek Zelenka nodded in complete agreement.

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Cleaning up after the destruction caused by the Ancient probe had taken days. Unrepairable equipment had to be replaced, damaged equipment had to be repaired and rewired, the entire computer network rebooted. Fortunately, no important data had been lost, but a great deal had to be reloaded from safety backup storage, and some of the most recent analysis that hadn’t been saved yet had to be redone completely.

Radek had barely left the lab at all. He and Peter Grodin were trying to analyze the drone’s actions and find out how exactly could it have broken loose. Dr. Beckett swore that he had not been thinking of anything remotely related to weapons.

“I was panicking too much to even think,” he admitted, a little sheepishly.

Grodin shook his head in exasperation. “That doesn’t make any sense!”

“It does, if system misinterpreted his panicking,” Radek pointed out. “If targeting computer concluded Carson was in danger… that might have triggered defensive measures.”

Dr. Beckett suddenly paled. “And what if it got me speech patterns wrong? I remember teasin' Rodney about lunch – perhaps the bloody system thought I meant _launch_?”

Grodin couldn’t suppress an outburst of laughter. “Your theories are even worse than Radek’s. The Ancient systems aren’t programmed to follow voice orders in _English_. They react to mental commands.”

“See?” Radek said. “Told you: it was trying to protect Carson.”

“Perhaps,” Grodin allowed reluctantly. “But why would it target General O’Neill’s chopper?”

Radek shrugged. “Was only incoming object at time. Without more precise instructions, defensive system apparently targets the first thing it can find.”

“We should think twice about whom we allow near the Ancient weapons, it seems,” Grodin deadpanned. “Panicking doctors obviously don't do well.”

“Och, really?” Dr. Beckett looked just a wee bit insulted. “I’d like to see how you would react, should that bewitched chair come alive under your arse.”

“It already has,” Grodin replied, “and _I didn’t_ panic. You’ll do well, Doc, given enough time. You just need to work on that low self-confidence of yours.”

“Worry not, Carson,” Radek patted on the spluttering doctor’s shoulder encouragingly, “you won’t need to do that. We’ve got Major Sheppard now. Not only has he super-ATA-gene, he also has self-confidence of ten people.”

They all laughed, as this was certainly very true. Major Sheppard, the new wonder boy of the base, was very sure of himself. Just like an ambitious young cock in a cage full of lovesick hens. Although Radek had the distinct feeling that Dr. Weir might be immune against the major’s overdose of flyboy charm.

“He’s American _and_ a pilot,” Grodin declared in his best ‘very British” manner. “That’s a lethal combination, due to dangerously high testosterone levels. I wonder, though, whether the base – or indeed Atlantis itself – will prove large enough for both his and McKay’s egos at the same time.”

“You forgot Kavanagh,” Radek reminded him.

“Nah, he won’t be a problem, “Grodin said. “Rodney can dress him down in no time, till he’s about an inch tall. I doubt, however, that he’ll manage to do the same with the major.”

“It will be interesting to watch them slog it out,” Dr. Beckett said with a broad grin. “In two weeks' time, they’ll either be the bestest chums, or one of them will be dead.”

“My money is on the major,” Grodin said. The list of potential expedition members wasn’t full yet, but it was already known that both Dr. McKay and Major Sheppard would go.

“No, no, no,” Radek shook his head. “You underestimate Rodney. He’s very sneaky.”

“Would you consider a bet?” Grodin asked, grinning.

Radek hesitated. While he was _almost_ certain that Rodney McKay would out-smart the overconfident pilot (or, at the very least, drive him nuts), betting was against his nature. He didn’t like risking his money, in the unlikely case he was wrong. Despite the fact that, for the first time in his life, he had no financial problems. He could even afford to support his sisters, aside from the alimony he paid his ex and the funds for his little daughter, but this didn’t make him careless. He valued his improved finances very much and saw them as additional responsibility.

No, he wasn’t greedy. He knew a lost bet of ten dollars wouldn’t ruin him or his family. It was just that he had grown up with very little, and old habits were hard to break.

“ _Děkuji_ ,” he said with an apologetic grin, “but I’m not a betting man.”

He couldn’t expect the others to understand. This was something he couldn’t even try to explain to them. One must have lived the way he had lived in his youth to be able to relate. So he simply accepted that his new friends might think he was a coward.

“Doctor Zelenka?” a voice with a strong German accent asked.

He turned around and met the pretty hazel eyes of a petite blonde wearing casual civilian clothes – a welcome distraction from all the US military fatigues seen all over the base. Her badge revealed her as part of the international security team that had been allowed to watch over the European scientists as a compromise for not allowing foreign military here.

“Yes,” Radek said. “How can I help you, Miss…?”

“Rietz,” she replied with a firm handshake. “Alex Rietz.”

“Oh, I remember you,” Grodin said. “You’re one of the German police officers who came with the civilian security troops, right?”

“Right,” she said with a charming smile; one would never had guessed that she was a cop, which was probably the reason why she had been chosen for this job in the first place.

That, and perhaps her striking resemblance to Colonel Carter, which could mislead potential hostile agents, even though she was more sweet-faced. Which was a strange thing in Radek’s opinion, because honestly, a _German_ police officer? He knew he was a bit prejudiced – that was a bit of historic baggage for Czech people (and other peoples in the Middle-European area, most likely) that needed a conscious effort to be set aside every time.

Rietz, fortunately, didn’t notice his distraction. Or she chose to ignore it. Perhaps she was used to this sort of reaction.

“Excuse me for the intrusion, gentlemen,” she said. “I hope I haven’t interrupted anything important here…”

“Not at all, not at all,” Radek answered amiably. “We’re always happy to talk to… _civilians_.”

The other two grinned from ear to ear. _Civilian_ was a term the Marines on the base used like derogatory slang – as if _not_ wearing a uniform would be a contagious disease, one that they tried to avoid contact with at any price. Unbeknownst to them, however, the scientists had long turned tables on them and started calling a _civilian_ everyone who became glassy-eyed after having listened to their conversations for longer than five minutes. Someone – perhaps Kavanagh, it matched his style the best – called it ‘the revenge of the eggheads’.

The pretty officer couldn’t know, of course, that they were making fun of her. Well, at least it was _mild_ fun, with no malevolent intentions.

“That’s good to hear,” she said. “In that case, Doctor Zelenka, maybe you could come with me? Doctor Weir would like to see you in her office. Right away, if it’s possible. As soon as you can, if it’s not.”

Radek’s heart jumped into his throat. He had been waiting for this call for weeks. Almost given up on ever being called, in fact. Cautious hope began to spread in him. Could this mean…?

“Well,” he blinked owlishly over the rim of his glasses for a moment, “I guess this here can wait. Peter, you can go on without me for a while, yes?”

Grodin nodded. “I’ll manage. Go. And good luck.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
As soon as he entered Dr. Weir’s office, he knew that this was serious, because she was not alone. Radek knew the man sitting on her side: it was Sevarion Kirkitadze, and expert in international law, both the civilian and the military branches. He had been appointed to Dr. Weir’s side by the Antarctica contract as a consultant and an aide.

Kirkitadze, despite his relative shortness – he was not much taller than Radek himself, though more broadly built – was an impressive sight to behold. A man in his early fifties with a deeply lined, hawkish face and piercing eyes, he had an unruly mane of greying hair and a husky voice. He was also known as a force of nature in the courtroom.

Most people involuntarily backed off when Kirkitadze as much as entered a room, but Radek had met him a few times under less formal circumstances and knew that the lawyer could be funny and even surprisingly charming if he chose to. Plus, they found evil delight in speaking Russian with each other, which freaked out the US military types no end. Although Kirkitadze wasn’t a Russian, either. He had been born in Georgia and studied in Tbilisi before coming to Germany to work as a prosecuting attorney. But most military types couldn’t make a difference between a Russian and a Georgian anyway. Hell, some of them seemed to think that _Radek_ was Russian.

He exchanged greetings with the lawyer and accepted the seat offered to him. Then he was just sitting there, raising anxious eyes to Dr. Weir.

“Doctor Zelenka,” she said, “thanks for coming. As you probably already know, we’ve actually managed to locate Atlantis.”

He nodded. “Grapevine has been working overtime. Is in Pegasus galaxy. Small one, in the local cluster.”

Theresa Weir smiled. “I see you’re well-informed as always. All right. You know I’ve been choosing people for this expedition for quite a while. But now things have suddenly become more urgent, and I’d like to take people with us who are already familiar with Ancient technology and have already got the necessary clearance. Would you be interested?”

“ _Would_ I be interested?” Radek repeated incredulously. “ _Of course_ I am interested! I haven’t got doctorates for being stupid. This… this is greatest opportunity, ever! This is…” he spread his hands in a speechless gesture, unable to find the right words.

He couldn’t believe he’d actually been chosen. Perhaps it was just because of the sudden urgency, but he didn’t really care. He was in!

Dr. Weir was obviously amused. “Very well then. But you must be aware of the fact that this will most likely be a one-way trip. We have to gate into a different galaxy, and…”

“… and zeePM has only energy enough to send us there, unless we find new zeePM for trip back, _ano_ , I know that,” Radek interrupted a little impatiently, then he stopped and went beet red. “Apologies for jumping in your word, Doctor Weir. Is bad habit among scientists.”

“And the only way to get heard whenever Doctor McKay is on a roll, we know,” Kirkitadze added dryly. It was no secret that the head scientist of Antarctica was constantly chafing the lawyer’s nerves.

Truth be told, Rodney McKay was chafing _everyone_ ’s nerves on a daily basis. Were he not so brilliant, people would have throttled him on the very first day. Having an overbloated ego didn’t make a person popular, although Radek always suspected that a good portion of McKay’s ego trips were actually a defence mechanism to cover personal insecurities.

Radek Zelenka knew a great deal about personal insecurities.

“Yes, Rodney _does_ have that tendency,” he agreed with a shrug and a smile. For his part, he rather enjoyed working with the eccentric Canadian. McKay might have been outrageous at times, but he was certainly stimulating – in the creative, scientific sense of the word.

“In any case,” Dr. Weir steered the discussion back towards the actual topic, “I hope you understand why we seek out people with little or no family at all. I was hesitating in asking you because you _do_ have a wife and a daughter…”

“ _Ex-wife_ ,” Radek corrected in resignation. “She left me and took Hanka with her. Said I was never home anyway, so it wouldn’t matter if she moved to another town. She’s a doctor, a really good one, and has job at the clinic of Bor. Good job, good money, great opportunity for her. She always wanted work as a surgeon… now she can do so.”

“Does it mean you don’t even get to see your daughter anymore?” Kirkitadze asked with a frown. 

Radek spread his hands. “I saw her before going to Russia. _And_ before coming here. She still remembered me, which was pleasant surprise. I’ve made arrangements with my bank for her to get financial support when she’s old enough.”

“How old is she now?” Dr. Weir asked.

“She’s just turned five,” Radek smiled. “Is very sweet little girl. I sometimes record video message for her, and Jiřina – my sister – shows them her when visiting. Sadly, she sees Hanka more often than I do.”

“You miss her very much, don’t you?” Dr. Weir asked gently. “Are you sure you can leave her behind?”

Radek nodded, blinking away his tears before they could break to the surface.

“Yes… yes, I do. I won’t be seeing her more, even if I still lived in Prague. My work eats up all my time, and schedules are hard to synchronize. _Prosím_ , I’d very much like to go with expedition, if you really want me.” He thought about that last sentence and blushed furiously. “I mean, if you want me to _participate_.”

“I know how you meant it,” Dr. Weir smiled, while Kirkitadze, also struggling with English grammar on a daily basis, tried to hide his grin. “And I wouldn’t be asking you if I didn’t want you to _participate_. So, can I take it that you’re absolutely sure about this? You may never see your family again.”

“That could happen if I stay here, too,” Radek said gloomily. “Alšběta – my ex-wife – doesn’t like me visiting. Says I upset Hanočka … that she cries herself to sleep after visits. And there are tricks to keep her from me, even though I do have rights to see her. It would be better so, I think. She will learn the truth when she’s old enough.”

“Very well,” Dr. Weir nodded. “You do realize that you’ll have to sign on for a grand commitment to a longer term, of course.”

“Of course,” Radek smiled. “I’ll sign. This is best opportunity I ever got. I have no private life; so I’ll take the best my profession can offer. Is kind of fulfilment, too.”

“I like the way you think,” Kirkitadze grinned. “It’s very… Middle-European.”

Radek shrugged. “You and I know that one has to make best of cards dealt you by life. Growing up behind the Iron Curtain makes you expert in _that_.”

Kirkitadze nodded. “Very true. Well, Doctor Zelenka, if you’re really willing to go all the way to the Pegasus galaxy, this is the line where you’ll have to sign.”

Radek read the contract _very_ thoroughly – another thing one had to learn behind the Iron Curtain was to check every written contract for traps and pitfalls – and finding everything in order, he signed it. It felt strangely like closing a door forever and standing in a windowless anteroom, waiting for the other door to open.

“So,” he said brightly, “how much are we allowed to pack for this journey?”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
“You’re pulling my leg, yes?” Radek glared at the leader of the civilian security team incredulously. “ _One_ personal item? _That_ ’s all we can bring with us? For journey with no return ticket?”

The tall, bald-headed German spread his arms in honest apology. “I don’t make the rules, Doctor.”

“But… but…” Radek was close to panicking, “I _must_ take photo album with pictures of Hanočka … and videotapes of her… no, I can copy videotapes on high compression data clip, so that’s no problem. But I need my books… and coffee… and _becherovka_ …”

“We’ll take a stash of coffee for the entire expedition, Doctor Zelenka,” the security officer, whom he barely reached to the thin, short-cropped goatee, tried to calm him down. “And with digital databases, you won’t need any books, surely I don’t have to explain that to _you_ of all people.”

“But I _like_ my books,” Radek snapped, in a near-hostile manner. “You can use them during electricity failure, you know.”

“Try to list them under scientific equipment, then,” the other man suggested. “If you talk to one of the anthropologists or linguists, they might be willing to hide them for you among their stuff.”

Radek shot him a wary glance. “And you won’t report me?”

“Why should I?” the security officer chuckled. “You won’t do it within my earshot, will you?”

“Of course not! I’m scientist, not _debile_.”

“Well then, I won’t even know about it, will I?” the security officer asked with a friendly little grin. “ _Und was ich nicht weiß macht mich nicht heiß_ ,“ he added in German, and Radek, though not fluent, knew the language well enough to understand it. He laughed. 

“True, true. Thank you, Mr…”

“Naseband,” the other offered and held out his hand. “Michael Naseband.”

Radek giggled involuntarily while they shook hands. “That’s peculiar name.”

“Yeah, I get _that_ a lot,” Naseband replied dryly. “Although someone whose name means ‘innocent little joy’ perhaps shouldn’t criticize other people’s names.”

“You’ve checked?” Radek didn’t take offence. He liked his name and didn’t really care what other people thought of it. “You always check names of people you work with?”

“Of course not,” Naseband grinned. “That would take too long. But Branco – our colleague, Mr. Vukovic – wanted to know what it meant, for some reason.”

“That,” Radek declared with dignity, “is Slavic brotherhood. We small nations must stick together.”

That statement seemed to amuse Naseband very much.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll register your family album as the one personal item and won’t say anything about the _rubbing alcohol_ you obviously need for your joints. But you’ll have to see how you can slip your books through without my help… or knowledge.”

Radek blinked in surprise. Had Officer Naseband just unofficially allowed him to take _becherovka_ to Atlantis?

“Thank you,” he said quietly. 

Naseband waved off his thanks. “Forget it. I leave a twelve-year-old son behind, too. We divorced fathers must stick together.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Two weeks later everything and everyone was packed and geared up and ready to go. Radek had made a deal with Dr. Corrigan, the anthropologist, who had agreed to stash his most cherished books away with the linguistic stuff, in exchange for some help with data correlation work and an unauthorized update of his laptop. Radek found it a good deal, as the databases didn’t contain poetry in Czech or his favourite novels. He only had to do what he was best at for it. For having a piece of _home_ in a far-away, foreign galaxy. It was more than worth of the two sleepless nights he’d spent at Corrigan’s laptop.

Unlike the others, he hadn’t had the time for a trip home to say his goodbyes personally. So he’d recorded another video message and sent it to Jiřina. She would show it to Hanočka, and at least he wouldn’t have to see his daughter’s tears. He told himself that _that_ was a good thing. Well, he’d _tried_ to, though it didn’t really work.

Having placed his baggage where he was supposed to, Radek jogged over to the Gate room. He hadn’t had much time to get his bearings in the Stargate Center, but this was a route he knew well enough. McKay wanted him to get familiar with the workings of the Gate, so he’d spent all his spare time in there lately. Besides, he wouldn’t miss the moment when the ZPM came alive for the world.

He already found quite the crowd in the Gate room. The people were wearing the new uniform – the one specifically designed for the expedition members. The one he was wearing himself. Some were talking, slapping each other’s backs, others were moving equipment. McKay was trying to explain something that he found obvious (while his discussion partner apparently did _not_ ), while Lieutenant Ford was desperately trying to make himself understood by someone who seemed _not_ to speak English. Further away, Dr. Beckett was butting heads with Colonel Sumner, the leader of the marine platoon ordered to protect the expedition. Carson stood up to the officer impressively enough but achieved little in the end. He had to leave his equipment in the care of the marines, much to his chagrin.

“Zaremba!” McKay barked. “Come to the base power control! We’re about to connect the zedPM to the Gate.”

Radek rolled his eyes. One year of shared work in Russia and six months in Antarctica, and McKay was still unable to remember his name. Well, at least the eccentric Canadian recognized the necessary of his presence for this step.

That, or he was unwilling to tolerate Kavanagh.

“I’m coming,” he replied, running already.

McKay welcomed him with that patented irritated look of his. As if he were a lower life form or whatnot. “Where have you been?”

Radek ignored him with practiced ease and went to work at once, lifting the ZPM out of its protective case. Nine times out of ten, the best tactic was to pay no attention whatsoever to McKay’s temper tantrums. From the corner of his eye he saw the bespectacled SGC technical sergeant by the name of Siler working furiously on the power circuits.

McKay was practically bouncing next to him with impatience. “Are we there yet?”

Sergeant Siler gave the irritated – and extremely irritating – scientist the silent treatment and continued working on his circuits.

“I’ve done what I can,” he finally said. “It should work now.”

“Okay, Sergeant, let’s give it a try.” McKay practically snatched the ZPM from Radek’s unresisting hands. “The zedPM should light up when it senses the conductive connection to the Gate…” he slowly lowered the lifeless module into the designated slot, while Radek was checking the readings on his laptop, and pointed at Siler. “Go on!”

The sergeant threw the switch, and Radek watched in stunned fascination as the same golden light that had filled and fuelled the rouge Antarctica drone now began to glow in the heart of the ZPM.

“Oh yeah,” McKay whispered, clearly overwhelmed as well. “We did it!”

Up until now, they could only _hope_ that it would actually work. Until now, a journey to a different galaxy was just a distant possibility. Now it had become almost frighteningly real.

For a moment, Radek seriously asked himself if there was any way to chicken out of the whole thing. For a moment, he was scared to death and wanted to bolt and run away as fast as he could. He could see Dr. Weir walking into the Gate room, up the ramp that lead to the Gate itself, but he couldn’t focus on her speech. Later – much later – he would re-watch the recording until every single word was burnt into his memory forever, but right now he was too overwhelmed to pay any attention.

 _Get out of here_ , a cowardly little voice screamed in the back of his head, _get out, get out, get out_!

Instead, he forced his numb legs to move, following McKay into the Gate room. The dialling sequence was running already, they were up to chevron five. Dr. Weir looked at them with a slight smile, noticing Radek’s colourless face but not making any remark.

“How embarrassing,” she said to McKay, “I guess I need to calm down. What about you?”

McKay watched the Gate with a completely blank face while the technician announced the encoding of chevrons six and seven. “I’ve never been so excited in my entire life,” he said sarcastically.

There was palpable tension in the Gate room now. For the second time in the SGC’s existence, they were about to dial out of their home galaxy. This time in full understanding of the possible consequences. The Gate rotated one more time, then the last chevron snapped in. 

“Chevron _eight_ locked!” the Gate technician announced triumphantly.

The Gate opened with the usual big puddle of blue light. Everyone in the Gate room clapped and cheered. Well, everyone but Radek, that is. He was too busy fighting nausea.

“Send in the MALP,” Dr, Weir ordered, “and let’s check the telemetry.”

His curiosity finally winning over his fear, Radek jogged up to the control room eagerly, although he wasn’t sure the invitation included him, too. He’d rarely been there before, and these MALP-readings were something he wouldn’t miss for the world.

“We have MALP telemetry,” the Gate technician reported, at the very moment when he entered the control room. The viewscreen remained dark, however, save from a narrow band of environmental data appearing at its bottom margin. McKay bullied his way through the people to the screens, and Radek did his best to stay with him.

“What is it we’re looking at?” Dr. Weir asked. Understandably enough, the data didn’t say her much. She was a diplomat, not a scientist.

“Switching to zero lux,” the Gate technician said helpfully, and the darkness on the screen changed quality. It looked more like a glimpse into a dark room than like a dead screen now.

“Radar indicates a large room,” McKay noted absently, “but it doesn’t tell us anything about its purpose.”

“At least it’s structurally intact,” Radek added, studying the readings.

“Sensors state there’s oxygen… no measurable toxins,” McKay snatched back the word from him. “We have viable life-support.”

“Looks like we’re not getting out of this,” Radek muttered under his breath. 

Apparently not quietly enough, though, as Dr. Weir gave him a surprised glance.

“It’s still not too late to change your mind, you know,” she said in a low voice, concealed by McKay’s babbling. Radek nodded.

“I know, but I’m not going to… I’m just…”

“Nervous?” she prompted with an understanding smile. “Overwhelmed? Scared to death?” He nodded again, and her smile broadened. “Don’t worry. So am I. So is everyone who’s not too excited to think.“

“Doctor Weir,” General O’Neill’s voice interrupted, “you have a go.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, then she turned to Radek. “Ready, Doctor Zelenka?”

“No,“ he replied honestly, “but let us go nevertheless.”

“That’s the spirit,” she said approvingly. “Come with me then.”

 *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
When they got back to the Gate room, Colonel Sumner was already barking orders in front of the shimmering blue event horizon already.

“Let's go, people. We don't know how much time we've got,” he started to walk up the ramp. “Security teams one and two, you're up first. All other personnel will follow on our signal. Once on the other side, keep moving, clear the debarkation area. On my lead.”

“Hold on, Colonel,” Theresa Weir’s voice was even but a little cold. She hurried into the Gate room while zipping up her jacket, picked up a backpack at the foot of the ramp, and swung it onto her back with an ease that spoke of much practice. Then she walked up to the colonel. “We go through together.”

Sumner looked into her steely blue eyes and acknowledged the unspoken message with a curt nod.

“Fair enough,” he said.

He then walked to the top of the ramp with a couple of other marines, raised his P-90 and aimed it forward, before stepping through the event horizon. A dark-skinned sergeant whom Radek had heard to be called Bates and another Marine followed Sumner, their weapons also raised and ready. As the second Marine entered the wormhole, Weir stopped at the top of the ramp and looked up to the control room, as if she wanted to say something. Through the large window of the control room, General O'Neill nodded to her with a slight smile. She nodded back, then turned and stepped into the wormhole.

Radek shouldered his own backpack – it was painfully heavy, as he’d smuggled in a few additional books after the security control, and as a result he could barely carry it now – and crept closer to the shimmering surface. It beckoned him irresistibly… and frightened him shitless at the same time.

“Your very first Gate travel?” someone asked softly. He nodded, too nervous to answer, even though he recognized the voice of Paul Hays, one of his fellow engineers.

“You shouldn’t believe the horror stories the military guys love to tell,” Hays continued in a low voice. “I’ve been off-world a few times, and trust me: since they recalibrated the system to compensate the cell compression during the travel through the wormhole, you can’t feel a thing. Well, aside from a slight euphoria, but that’s not so bad, is it?”

Radek shook his head. “How long have you been with SGC?” he asked.

“Four years,” Hays replied, “and loved every minute of it. Except the times when murderous aliens were trying to kill us, of course. Or when Doctor McKay was visiting.”

That made Radek grin a little. Hays nodded encouragingly.

“Come,” he said, “we’ll go through together. Everyone is scared at the first time – I’d nearly crapped my pants, myself. But once you’ve done it, it’s just one of the ordinary yet weird things about life in the Stargate program.”

Somewhat encouraged, Radek gathered all his courage and stepped through the luminous veil. It touched his face like cool water, smoothly and pleasantly, and then something grabbed him with an irresistible force, and he had the impression of the ghost trains in his childhood’s amusement parks long gone, as he was whirled along an endless, winding tunnel, multi-coloured lights flickering along in no recognizable patterns. He knew, intellectually, that he shouldn’t feel the momentum at all, but the likeness was strong enough to make him nauseous.

Yes, it was a beautiful route, this place out of normal space, beautiful and amazing, but too alien for his brain to fully comprehend it. It almost made him sick. It was too much, too fast, too… he didn’t really have the word for it.

Fortunately, just when he started to become truly sick – as much as a disembodied person _could_ become sick to begin with – the unknown force released him and spat him out onto the cold (and _very_ hard) metallic floor of some large, dark room, illuminated only by the iridescent glow of the receiving Stargate. It seemed that he had made it. Remarkable.

He felt a strong hand helping him to his feet and heard Hays’ dry chuckle close to his ear. “Congratulations, Doctor Zelenka. You’ve officially been christened as a Gate traveller. You certainly have chosen a long trip for your first time.”

And Radek had to agree that _that_ was, indeed, very true.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this story is told from Zelenka’s POV, we’ll only get to see the events he would be able to witness. Also, I gave him and Hays some of the lines of the NoName characters, to show that they’d been there from the very beginning. Those and some other lines of dialogue are quoted directly from the pilot episode.  
> Dr. Hays' first name and personal background is my doing entirely. I just wanted a fellow Hungarian in Atlantis, and the similar sound of his name to the rather common Hungarian surname Hajós gave me the idea.

**CHAPTER 02 – RISING 2**

Radek let Hays lead him away from the Stargate and looked around in amazement. The Gate was the same size as the one on Earth – apparently, there was only one size in which they came – but looked a lot more sophisticated. The symbols around it were illuminated from within, and the chevrons were glowing green. Also, it seemed that they would not be moving mechanically, as he could detect no mobile segments, although he had no idea _how_ the dialling process would work here. 

“Incredible,” he whispered, backing off some more, moving out of the way as new teams and more equipment were arriving. 

The Marines who had already gone through were now cautiously checking out the area. Directly ahead of the Gate, there was a flight of steps leading up to another floor. Somewhere on the upper level, which had balconies overlooking the Gate room, some lights came on. 

“Teams One and Two, secure the immediate area,” Colonel Sumner barked, and his Marines, weapons raised and ready, established the standard search pattern. 

“Everyone else find an open space and park it until instructed otherwise,” Sumner ordered. 

“Let’s go up those steps and see what’s there,” Hays suggested. 

Radek was all for it; he suspected some interesting machinery in such close proximity to the Gate. Grodin picked up Hays’ suggestion and joined them. As soon as the Englishman put his foot on the first step, previously hidden lights suddenly came on along each step. Radek jumped nervously. Dr. Weir whirled around in surprise. 

“Who's doing that?” she asked. 

Hays and Radek exchanged clueless looks and shrugged simultaneously. 

“No idea, Ma’am,” Hays replied. 

“Security teams,” Sumner barked into his radio, “any alien contact?” 

All teams responded in the negative. 

“Perhaps it’s automated reaction?” Radek said tentatively. 

McKay, coming upstairs, rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Do you expect a welcome committee as well? As if the place would react to our arrival.” 

At this very moment Major Sheppard walked up the steps and the room was suddenly flooded with light. 

“Hey, the lights are coming on by themselves,” he said in surprise. 

Radek gave McKay a smug smile. “So, place wouldn’t react, eh?” 

McKay ignored him, as always when he’d have to admit that he’d been wrong. Meanwhile the last teams were coming through the Gate, pushing carts full of equipment before them. Colonel Sumner looked up from his list to Dr. Weir. 

“That's everyone,” he said. 

Theresa Weir nodded and activated her radio. “General O'Neill? Atlantis base offers greetings from the Pegasus Galaxy. You may cut power to the Gate. We’re through.” 

There was no answer. After a moment, a small item rolled out of the Gate, which then shut down. Dr. Weir picked the thing up. 

“A champagne bottle,” she realized with a smile, and then she read out loud the note attached to it. “Bon Voyage, General Jack O’Neill.” Everyone laughed, and she said. “We’ll save this for a special occasion. Now, what about a little exploration?” 

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Her suggestion was accepted with enthusiasm – all wanted to see more of the place, preferably right away. Colonel Sumner designated a security escort to each scientist team, just in case, and they swarmed out in several different directions. 

Radek stuck with Hays. He hadn’t known the guy all too well yet but found him nice enough to work with. Plus, although Hays was born in the States already, his parents had fled from Hungary after the doomed insurrection in 1956, which was, as he phrased it with a translated Hungarian phrase, “just a cat’s jump” from the Czech Republic, so that they were practically neighbours. Sort of. 

“Actually, the family name is Hajós,” Hays had explained back at SGC, “but the Americans were unable to pronounce it the right way, so my parents changed it. It was easier so.” 

But the similar origins were not the only reason why Radek liked to work with Hays. The man was an excellent engineer – the third generation in the family, as he liked to point out – and had an easy way to deal with the military types. He was not easily intimidated, being a fairly big man himself – not to mention tough as nails – and Radek felt strangely… safe in his company. 

He knew he was being ridiculous. No one wanted to harm him here in any way. But being small and scrawny and encircled by a number of big, beefy Marines could make a person nervous. Especially when said person came from a country that was considered, at the very least, suspect by aforementioned Marines. 

If Hays was aware of his discomfort – and Radek had come to learn that the man was nothing if not observant – he showed no sign of it. 

“Let us stay on this level, Sergeant Stackhouse,” he said to the leader of the security team assigned to them. 

The fresh-faced young Marine nodded. “Very well, Doctor Hays. Where do you wish to start?” 

“Wherever no other team is going,” Hays grinned. 

Stackhouse shrugged and waved his men to follow him along the sidewall, seeking a door to the other parts of the complex. 

Unexpectedly, a panelled set of doors opened in sections right in front of them. Stackhouse and his Marines walked through, aiming their weapons cautiously. They came into an adjoining room, and as the lights came on automatically, they saw a segmented table – in a roughly circular shape – in the middle of it. 

Radek pushed through the line of the Marines, ignoring their protests, and hurried to the table. He touched one of the sensor controls, but the console/table/whatever remained dead. 

“ _Hovno_ ,” he cursed in his native Czech, “it’s either broken or we need ATA gene. Which we have _not_.” 

“Grodin does,” Hays reminded him, speaking into his radio already. “Peter, can you come over here? I think we’ve found something.” 

“On my way,” Grodin replied, and indeed, he arrived almost immediately, his eyes widening at the sight. “Ooooooh…” 

“Exactly,” Radek agreed. 

Grodin reached out tentatively, and the console came alive at once. He made an involuntary jump backwards. No matter how often he experienced this reaction from random pieces of Ancient equipment, it still was a bit uncanny. 

“Aaaaall right,” he said, “I need to fetch Doctor Corrigan to help me interpret these labels. It won’t be good to make a mistake now. Do you two want to work with me here or go on exploring?” 

Radek and Hays exchanged a look. “Exploring,” they answered in unison. 

“You can call us when need hand,” Radek added, eager to see more as long as he could. In a day or two, he’d be buried in his lab again, but today he really, really wanted to play explorer. With a military escort, if there wasn’t any other way. 

Grodin laughed. “Very well, I’ll take you on your word. Go now. Shoo!” 

They returned his delighted laughter – they all felt like children in a candy shop – and followed Stackhouse who was already making his way through a corridor. The slide door had just snapped open in front of his nose, and the lights came on as he was walking in. 

“Very practical,” Radek commented, as Hays and he jogged after the marines. 

The corridor led them into a still dark, spacious room that smelled of metal – well, it smelled _stronger_ of metal than the other rooms – and of something they couldn’t quite recognize. From afar, it reminded them of the smell of airplane hangars when the planes hadn’t been used for a while – which was illogical, as Ancient machinery didn’t use the same fossil fuel as Earth technology, but there still was some resemblance. In the shadowy darkness they could make out some sort of small, cylindrical vessel, right next to the entrance. 

“Is this what I think it is?” Hays asked unnecessarily, a huge ear-to-ear grin practically splitting his face. There couldn’t be any real doubt of what the vessel had to be. This might be a more advanced technology than theirs, but the laws of aerodynamics were still the same. 

“We should take closer look,” Radek suggested, and they walked to the thing’s front, peering in through some transparent screen that could only be a windshield. 

Standing on tiptoes, Radek saw something that looked surprisingly like any other cockpit he’d ever seen – and he’d seen his fair share of those things, propulsion systems being one of his specialties. There were four seats in the cockpit. He couldn’t see the rear compartment, as the door leading there was closed shut, but he calculated that the front compartment contained approximately one quarter of the entire vessel. 

“It looks like ship,” he stated the obvious, and happy to be the one doing so. “Like a _spaceship_ of some sort. I wonder where engines might be…” 

If it was possible at all, Hays’ grin grew even wider. “It looks like that, doesn’t it? Man, I _love_ this place! It’s so very… _Star Trek_!” 

Radek shook his head with a tolerant smile but couldn’t deny that he was feeling the same sense of wonder. Building _naquadah_ generators for the Russians had been an inspiring challenge. Working with Ancient equipment on Antarctica had been beyond exciting. But _this_ … this was like a childhood dream coming true. 

Even if it was still scaring him to death. 

“You think there are more?” he asked. 

“There’s only one way to find out,” Hays replied, his eyes bright with hope and excitement. 

They walked deeper into the room, and the lights finally came on. They could see several other vessels of the same design parked in two rows around the room. 

“Like an airplane hangar… just much, much better,” Hays commented happily. “McKay’s gonna go mad when he sees this – especially since he won’t be able to limit access to them to himself.” 

“Propulsion systems aren’t his forte,” Radek agreed, “even though he likes to make people think they are. We should report this, yes?” 

“You’re right,” Hays switched on his radio and spoke in barely contained excitement. “Doctor Weir, this is Hays. We’re on the first floor, and… you really have to see this!” 

“I have a lot of things to see,” came her amused reply. “Just be careful. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.” 

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
But instead of her, an urgent radio call from Peter Grodin came in. 

“Doctor Zelenka, can you come back to the room you’ve found? I need a hand with these displays here.” 

“ _Ano_ , will be there in a minute,” Radek looked at Hays. “Can you wait here for Doctor Weir?” 

Hays nodded, eyeing the ships already. “Sure. I’ll take a look at these babies in the meantime.” 

“Doctor Hays, that’s probably not a good idea!” Sergeant Stackhouse protested. 

“Don’t worry, Sergeant,” Hays said. “Without the ATA gene, I can’t set off anything by accident. It will be safe enough.” 

Stackhouse looked from one scientist at the other doubtfully, but when Radek nodded in agreement, he gave in – not that he’d have any other choice. 

“All right. Smithy, escort Doctor Zelenka back and see that he isn’t harmed.” 

Radek gave him an exasperated glare but didn’t protest. Arguing with a protective Marine would have been just as hopeless as trying to make McKay understand that he wasn’t _always_ right. So he walked back to the room with the segmented table in the company of the Marine named Smithy. 

He found Grodin and McKay in the room, working on the console. Well, _Grodin_ was working on the console, while McKay was darting back and forth between it and the Gate room. Radek only now realized that there were other consoles in the room, near the huge window that looked down directly at the Stargate. Several technicians were uncovering them, trying to figure out their purpose. 

“Where’s Doctor Weir?” Radek asked, having expected to find her there. 

“Sumner has called her and Mayor Boy Wonder to show them something, three levels below us,” Grodin replied. “There will be a lot to show and see, I guess. Apparently, the whole complex is sensing our presence and coming to life.” 

Radek shot McKay an amused glance, even though he knew that their science department head would never admit that he’d been wrong about this particular matter. 

“So, this is Control room?” he asked. 

“Looks like it is,” McKay stared at tone of the consoles with the familiar Stargate symbols on its surface. “This is obviously their version of a DHD.” 

“Perhaps,” Grodin agreed, checking the reading on the now vibrantly alive screens of the circular table with Dr. Corrigan’s help. The anthropologist was the best at Ancient language in the entire expedition, and, surprisingly enough, technically savvy. “I believe this area here is the power control system.” 

“Possibly a computer interface?” Radek guessed, powering up his laptop. 

McKay whirled around and stared daggers at him. “Well, why don’t the two of you find it out, instead of babbling incoherent stuff?” he snapped, completely ignoring the fact that they were already working on it. 

Grodin and Radek exchanged a look of mild annoyance. 

“One of these days I’m gonna hurt him,” the darkly handsome Englishman said ominously. 

“Get a number,” a young Asian technician – who was packing out pieces of their equipment a little further away – murmured. “The end of the queue is still back on Earth.” 

Radek bit his lips to suppress a giggle. He glanced up to see if McKay had heard the remark, and noticed the large screen on the wall for the first time. It was activated but didn’t show anything at the moment, save the blue light scrolling across it. 

“Peter, do we know what that screen is for?” he asked. 

“It’s linked to the external sensors, according to this blueprint here,” Grodin said, studying something on a monitor in front of him. 

“Like the ones on Antarctica?” the Asian technician asked with interest. 

Grodin nodded. “Just like those, Eddie. I think if we can repair the connection, we might get a view of our surroundings. Radek, can you take a look at this? For some reason, it won’t start.” 

Radek squatted down next to the console and opened a control panel. It was of similar construction as the ones on Antarctica, just a lot bigger and even more sophisticated. But basically, it worked on the basis of energy-conducting crystals, and he discovered the problem quickly enough. 

“Here’s culprit,” he showed a darkened crystal that seemed to have burned out. “Good thing we have brought spares from Earth.” 

“Well, I hope the Ancients have left us plenty of spares,” Grodin said, “because if everything is in such a sorry shape, the few crystals we’ve brought with us will be used up all too soon.” 

“You worry too much,” Radek exchanged the dead crystal for a still working one and closed the circuit. “We can always improvise. Is about being creative, yes? Try now.” 

Grodin touched the sensor controls tentatively, and the big screen came alive. “You are good,” he said, impressed. “But something is… strange.” 

Everyone turned to the viewscreen. It was still dark, a shadowy bluish grey, and even darker shapes were swaying on it in a lazy rhythm. Far away and a long way up, fade light was glinting on some smooth surface, beyond a number of differently shaped, elegant towers and spires. 

“Well, we don’t know the rotation cycle of this planet yet,” McKay commented. “It’s probably night time, that’s why it’s so dark out there. And those things are most likely trees. Yes, that must be it. Trees, moving in a strong wind.” 

But Dr. Eric Corrigan shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so, Rodney. Remember the legend of Atlantis? I think we…” 

“We’re under water,” Grodin whispered. 

McKay almost jumped at the thought, which wondered Radek a little, until he remembered that the astrophysicist was claustrophobic. He certainly could relate. He’d very nearly got a panic attack while travelling through the Chunnel from France to England a few years ago. 

“But how could the city hold against the pressure of the water, if it’s truly on the bottom of the sea?” Corrigan asked. 

“I’m sure this console can answer that question,” Grodin said. “Help me find a display of the city’s power network on this thing.” 

He could read Ancient letters – all of them could fairly well by now – but Corrigan had worked with Dr. Jackson on the Ancient-English dictionary for years. Everything went a lot faster with his help. 

A few minutes later they managed to find the database, and Grodin called up the power network, combined with the blueprint of the entire city. They all leaned over it, trying to figure out how things worked. The display showed a star-shaped city with a central unit and five piers, connected to the centerpiece by long corridors. The entire shape seemed to be surrounded by some sort of halo- a crackling seam of blue energy. 

“A forcefield,” McKay exclaimed. “A forcefield, to hold back the water. I have to tell Doctor Weir of this!” He ran off, without waiting for an answer. Grodin, Radek and Corrigan exchanged amused looks. 

“We better check the energy levels before everything else,” Grodin suggested. “Radek, link your laptop to this console, so that we can save the readings for Doctor Weir. I think a constant monitoring of available power would be the sensible thing to do.” 

Radek nodded in agreement and did as he had been asked. Grodin turned to the technician. 

“Eddie, you worked for SGC for a year, you know your way around the Gate control system. Try to access it, so that we can see whether we’ll be able to operate the Gate at all. It seems a little different from the one we had at home.” 

“It’s a lot fancier, for sure,” Eddie grinned and went to work. 

“Eric,” Grodin said to Corrigan, “can you try to find the Gate’s database? It should contain a number of addresses to other planets. We should take a look at possible escape routes – just in case.” 

“Sure,” the anthropologist replied, eager to do something useful. 

“Peter,” Radek said, studying his laptop, “I think I’ve found power source.” 

“Already?” Grodin was pleasantly surprised. “It’s a zedPM, isn’t it?” 

“No,” Radek said, “actually, _three_ zeePMs.” 

“That’s great!” Grodin exclaimed, but seeing Radek’s face, he trailed off. “What is? Three zedPMs… that’s good, isn’t it?” 

“No,” Radek said grimly. “Afraid not. Two of them are burned out already, and third one is on minimum power level. I think you should warn Rodney.” 

Grodin stood for a moment, thunderstruck, and then ran off after McKay. 

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Barely a minute later Dr. Weir, Colonel Sumner, Major Sheppard, Dr. Beckett and Dr. McKay were all crowded around the control table, trying to understand the magnitude of the problem. Well, McKay didn’t need much explanation, of course. In fact, he dominated the entire discussion – again – while Radek and Peter waited in resignation for him to finish, and Colonel Sumner’s eyes were slowly gazing over. 

After the second run-on sentence, the colonel turned away from McKay and looked at Grodin. “Can you just tell me the bottom line?” 

Grodin displayed the blueprint of the city on the large wall screen. 

“As you can see, the forcefield that’s holding back the ocean has collapsed to its minimum sustainable levels,” he highlighted the blue lining that was surrounding the outlines of the city… well, more or less. Some parts lay outside of that lining already. “Look, here you can see the parts where the shield’s already failed and the city is flooded.” 

“When has that happened in your opinion?” Dr. Weir asked. 

Grodin shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. Could have happened years ago.” 

“Do you think the centerpiece is better protected?” Dr. Weir asked. 

“That’s likely,” Grodin said. “They would have wanted to protect the Stargate at any price.” 

“What if the shield fails completely?” 

“It’s a matter of _when_ , not _if_ ,” McKay snapped, irritated that Sumner had gone over his head, asking Grodin. 

Theresa Weir rubbed her face tiredly. “Colonel Sumner, I think you need to order your security teams to stop searching the city, for the time being at least, until we figure out how to solve the problem. We must cut back on the energy consume.” 

Sumner hesitated for a moment. Then he turned his head to the side and barked into the radio that was fastened on his shoulder. “All security teams, fall back to the Gate room. Move it!” 

“Is that going to be good enough?” Dr. Weir asked Grodin. The Englishman shook his head while McKay cut into his word to give a negative answer. Dr. Weir nodded. “All right, I get the picture. How much time do we have?” 

“That’s hard to tell,” Grodin replied with a shrug. “We still don’t know how much energy it takes to keep the shields up and running. But it must be a lot; after all, it has sucked dry two zedPMs… well, almost all three of them.” 

“We have _hours_ ,” McKay interrupted. “Days, maybe, if we minimize power expenditure.” 

“How about our own power generators?” Dr. Beckett asked. “We _have_ brought some from Earth, haven’t we?” 

“We’re working on problem,” Radek said, typing away on his laptop furiously. 

McKay rolled his eyes. “Even with the most advanced _naquadah_ generators, the equations are coming up far short. May I remind you that three zedPMs were powerful enough to have the whole city fly away from Earth and cross the incredible distance between galaxies?” 

“Is there any chance that we could find more zeePMs in Atlantis?” Weir asked. 

Grodin shook his head regretfully, but once again, it was McKay who answered. “No. There are none.” 

“How in hell can you tell that?” Colonel Sumner asked. “We haven’t even searched the city!” 

“There are none marked on the display,” Grodin explained. “We’d have detected them as soon as these consoles came online.” 

“What about the Stargate?” Sumner asked. “Can we use it at all?” 

McKay glared at him in irritation. “Ever tried to melt the polar caps with a candle, Colonel? There’s nowhere near enough power to open a wormhole back to Earth.” 

“I know that, doctor,” Sumner said with forced patience. “Believe or not, I’m not a complete fool. I meant a visit to other planets within _this_ galaxy. It seems we need an Alpha Site, and soon.” 

“We can try,” Grodin answered. “Doctor Corrigan has already managed to access the Gate control system and found a whole library of known Gate addresses in the database. Eddie thinks he can operate the Gate. Fortunately, it still needs mechanical buttons. And that’s not all. Look at this,” he pushed a button, and the shield they had just detected, appeared across the gate.” 

McKay glared at him. “You are wasting power!” 

“I wanted to demonstrate that we won’t have to deal with any uninvited guests,” Grodin replied. “At least not in the immediate future.” 

“Okay, you _have_ demonstrated,” McKay said impatiently. “Now turn it off!” 

Grodin shrugged and obeyed. 

“That is good news at least,” Theresa Weir said in relief. “But we’ll need a safe harbour, nevertheless. Or better still, a power source. Colonel, assemble a team. Peter, pick an address, so that Eddie can start dialling as soon as everyone has geared up. 

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Not much of the following frantic activity truly reached Radek – he was too immersed in his calculations. He even missed the Stargate whooshing open and the security teams marching through. 

“We won’t be able to install _naquadah_ generators and switch power sources, at least for the Gate room," he told Grodin regretfully. “Not in time. Shield is now just a thin shell between buildings and water.” 

“What if we tried to re-establish the shield just around the Gate room?” Dr. Weir asked. 

“That’s problem I’m working on,” Radek told her. “But our _naquadah_ generators cannot establish shield long enough for us to switch off Ancient shield and re-establish it in small size around Gate room. Water would reach us first and crush Gate room like nutshell.” 

“Another section of the city on the far side was flooded an hour or so ago,” Grodin added, studying the display. “Even us being in this room is draining power.” 

“We need to evacuate, the moment Colonel Sumner reports back it’s safe,” McKay added. 

“Does it mean we’ll have to abandon the city?” Kirkitadze asked. 

“I’m afraid we will,” Dr. Weir nodded. “According to Doctor McKay, the sooner we leave, the longer the shield holds. We have no other choice than leave the city, in order to save it. We can return later, when we’ve found another power source.” 

“That is… unfortunate,” the lawyer said, “but in this case, we need to prepare the expedition members for immediate evacuation.” 

“Can you do this?” Dr. Weir asked. “I’d like to stay here and watch what’s happening. We still haven’t heard word from Colonel Sumner, and frankly, I’m getting worried.” 

“You have every reason for that,” Kirkitadze said. “Stay. I’ll speak with the people.” 

He moved away, and Dr. Weir walked over to one of the large windows to peer out into the ocean. The elegant spires of Atlantis were barely visible in the grey twilight out there. Then suddenly, in some distance, there was an explosion in the water. 

“What was _that_?” she asked, fairly startled. 

“Another part of forcefield failed,” Radek answered, without looking up from his laptop. “We’ve had several such explosions in the last four hours. City is sacrificing part of itself to maintain main areas.” 

“Not that it matters,” McKay added grimly. “Catastrophic failure is inevitable… and immediate, it seems.” 

“I don’t think we have much time, either” Grodin said in agreement. 

Theresa Weir thought for a moment, then she nodded grimly and activated her radio. 

“Attention, all personnel,” she said in a strong, even voice. “This is Doctor Weir. Stand by for immediate evacuation.” 

Barely had she finished, the base began to shake violently. The expedition members hurriedly formed the groups each of them had been assigned to during emergency training. Dr. Weir whirled around to Eddie. 

“Dial the Gate! 

The technician began to push buttons, but at the same time, the Gate started dialling in – and proved one hell of a lot faster than he was. 

“We’ve got an incoming wormhole,” he reported, as the forcefield across the Stargate came on. 

“Do we have an ID code?” Dr. Weir asked, her voice tight. 

“I’m reading Lieutenant Ford’s,” Grodin replied, his relief apparent. 

So was Dr. Weir’s for that matter. 

“Lower the forcefield,” she ordered. “Let’s hope they have good news.” 

Eddie carried out his orders, and Radek glanced up from his laptop just in time to see Major Sheppard coming through the Gate, followed by some Marines – and a surprisingly large number of unknown people who wore homespun clothing and generally looked like extras from a sword and sorcery movie. Or from a similar computer game. 

He noticed that Major Sumner was missing as well as his right-hand-man, the grim-faced sergeant named Bates. Then he had to turn back to his work, as the shaking of the base became worse. Much worse. 

“Shield failure imminent,” he warned, as loudly as he could, to be heard through the quarrel between Dr. Weir and Major Sheppard. Theresa Weir whirled around. 

“How much time do we have?” she asked desperately. 

Radek shook his head. “None. Shield’s collapsing.” 

Oblivious to the frightened screams all around him he watched with morbid fascination as the blue aura around the city’s display flickered off with a last flash of light. Yes, he knew they were going to die, but the engineer in him wanted to see how the ocean would come crashing in on them. He wanted to understand _what_ was happening... and _how_. 

The base jolted again, so hard that he was thrown off his feet – just like everyone else, he realized. Boxes and crates were falling and crashing around, and people scrambled out of the way to avoid being hit by them. But beneath all that shaking and shouting and crashing he could feel something else… a profound change in their situation. 

_We are moving_ , he realized, too astonished to speak up. 

Indeed, the movement was not unlike that of an elevator, only slower. He was reminded of that sci-fi movie with Elizabeth Mastrantonio – what a lovely lady! – what was it called again? Oh yes, “The Abyss”. It was like that alien city rising from the ocean. The absurdity of that thought made him giggle, but his hilarity was replaced by awe as the control room rose above the water and sunlight poured through the huge windows, blinding him momentarily. 

Blinking owlishly, he waited for his vision to return and the city to settle into a stable position on the ocean’s surface. _Then_ he ran to the nearest window, which still had water pouring off it, and looked out in awe. He could see a small tidal wave moving away from the city in all directions, but there was no sign of land anywhere. 

“Well, at least we’re not gonna drown,” Hays commented softly, standing behind him. “I wonder, though, if the entire planet is covered with this frigging ocean.” 

Radek shrugged. “That is statistically highly unlikely – but won’t be big problem, either. In ocean, there must be fish and algae. And other edible things. Not our problem, though. Let’s see if we can switch power to _naquadah_ generators, now that we don’t have additional problem of ocean crushing city like nutshell.” 

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Some two hours later it became abundantly clear that the _naquadah_ generators won’t be able to supply enough power for the re-establishing of the forcefield. Not even close. That made Major Sheppard – who had, apparently, discovered a malevolent alien species on the planet his team had visited – extremely agitated. A fact that brought forth the worst possible reaction from Dr. McKay who didn’t like his professional knowledge being questioned. 

Radek used the break provided by their little dominance fight to question Lieutenant Ford about what had actually happened. The handsome young Marine gave him – and Hays who had not left his side since the beginning of the current crisis – an extremely professional summary of their failed attempt to find an Alpha Site, and a short but detailed description of the aliens called the Wraith. 

“They took Colonel Sumner, Sergeant Bates and some of the local people and flew through the Gate in a dart-shaped glider,” he finished. “I managed to memorize six of the symbols of their destination, but even so, there are hundreds of possible…” 

“Seven hundred and twenty,” Radek supplied, after a short calculation. 

Ford stared at him with his mouth hanging open. “You sure?” 

Radek nodded. “You’re soldier. You’re good with weapons. I’m engineer. I’m good with numbers.” 

“Well, Doc, no offence, but I still hope you’re wrong. Because if we’re to check out seven hundred planets…” 

“Seven hundred and twenty,” Radek corrected. “That’s just possibilities, though. Not each of them has necessarily an actual gate address to match. So, we only have to check out the ones we can get lock on.” 

“It still could be dozens,” Ford said sourly. “Even hundreds.” 

“Possibly,” Radek agreed. “So we have to begin at once. I’ll help to provide potential addresses. You give me the six symbols you saw.” 

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
They called Dr. McKay and Grodin to help them. Half an hour later they were still trying out possible Gate addresses methodically, without getting a lock. From the corner of his eye, Radek saw Major Sheppard stomping in from an outside balcony, red-faced with anger. Dr. Weir follower him in, her face pale and tense in the golden frame of her short, wavy hair. 

Kirkitadze walked up to her, his rugged face dark with anger and concern. Radek tried to catch some of their conversation while still doing his job at the same tame. It wasn’t easy, but he could multi-task with the best. 

“Problems with the major?” the lawyer asked in a low voice. 

Dr. Weir shrugged. “You know that sort of military mindset. ‘We don’t leave our people in the hand of the enemy!’ and ‘I’m the ranking military officer here!’, blah, blah, blah…” 

“Well,” Kirkitadze said, “I can understand that he wants to rescue our people…” 

“No, Sevarion,” Dr. Weir said grimly. “He doesn’t want to rescue _our_ people. He wants to rescue _his_ people.” 

“Aren’t the two things the same?” the lawyer asked. 

“Apparently not,” Theresa Weir replied with a bitter smile. “He just wants to ride in on his white horse, without considering the ramifications. Because that’s what good little soldiers do, and the life of the civilians be damned.” 

“Hmmm,” Kirkitadze thought about it for a moment. “So you’re not gonna let him start a rescue mission?” 

“Not unless I’m sure that there’s at least a small chance of success,” Dr. Weir said. “It would be sending good people to their deaths, and I see nothing heroic in sacrificing twenty people to save two or four.” 

“Major Sheppard won’t give up easily,” Kirkitadze warned. 

“I know,” Dr, Weir sighed. “He’s a self-absorbed, arrogant fool who’s certain that he can’t be wrong. Unfortunately, he’s also the one with the strongest Ancient gene – and, at least at the moment, the ranking military officer on the base.” 

“Well… you were the one who wanted him for this expedition,” the lawyer reminded him. 

“A decision I’m beginning to regret already,” Theresa Weir replied. 

Radek was so absorbed in his eavesdropping that he completely forgot about the permutations running across his laptop screen. He almost dropped the instrument when Grodin touched his shoulder. 

“Doctor Zelenka? Radek? You still with us?” 

Radek jerked around and blinked. “Oh. Sorry. I was… distracted. What's it?” 

“We have an address,” Grodin told him. 

“We do? Out of how many?” 

“So far? Out of seven hundred and thirteen.” 

“Not very promising,” Radek commented. 

What was even less promising, the MALP sent through the Gate landed in space. The receiving Stargate was apparently floating in high orbit around a ringed planet with a small moon, on the far side of the Pegasus galaxy. Sheppard was furious, of course, but he couldn’t do a thing about it. The others were discouraged, too, as they had no chance to rescue their captured comrades. None of the small hydroplanes they had brought from Earth was capable of operating in space. They were thought for planetary use only. 

Radek closed his laptop and sought out Hays among the other engineers. 

“Paul,” he said quietly, “don’t you think it’s time we show Doctor McKay that room with small ships we’ve found? Perhaps they’ve been made to travel through orbital Stargates, yes?” 

Hays stared at him for a moment in awe. 

“Radek, you’re a true genius,” he then declared, and called up to the irritated astrophysicist. “Rodney, we’d like to show you something.” 

McKay glared down from the balcony of the Control room. “Now? Can’t it wait?” 

“No,” Radek said solemnly. “It can not.” 


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve created the (probably very un-scientific) part about the Athosian brain to explain why people in a different galaxy would speak English very well. Since the Stargate universe doesn’t work with universal translators (and I don't buy the theory that the Gate would automatically translate everything), I needed a different explanation for this phenomenon.

**CHAPTER 03 – RISING 3**

Major Sheppard was delighted, of course, when he found out that not only could he actually fly the small spaceship but that the thing had a cloaking system as well. This fact provided them with the tactical advantage Dr. Weir had asked for in order to authorise a rescue mission, and she _did_ authorise it, albeit still reluctantly. And so, after a rather childish fight between McKay, Sheppard and Ford about what to call the little vessels, a group of Marines set out to try getting back their captive people – and the abducted Athosians, as the local people were called. 

Radek joined McKay in the hangar, eager to get his hands on the ships, now that it seemed that he’d actually live long enough to take a closer look. The fact that neither of them possessed the ATA gene slowed down their progress, of course, but McKay drafted a fresh-faced young sergeant named Markham to activate various parts of the ship’s technology for them. 

“I hope we won’t have to call someone every time we need to fix these things,” William Petersen, an engineer from Denmark, grumbled. “That would be a goddamn nuisance.” 

“I have no idea,” McKay replied, shooting him an irritated look. “In case you haven’t noticed, this technology is so far beyond us that we don’t have a clue what we’re dealing with.” 

“We have educated guess,” Radek said calmly. “We all have experience with Ancient technology. All we need is time – and to be thorough.” 

“I don’t think that anything but the weapons systems and command areas would be permanently linked to the gene,” Peter Grodin added through the earpiece, following their progress via the comm system. 

“Meaning that only the ATA gene carriers can actually _fly_ such a ship, but it would allow us to fix it?” Petersen asked with a sour glance at Sergeant Markham. It was unfair that such a snot-nosed kid would have access to exciting Ancient technology, while those who actually _could_ use having access were denied. 

“Exactly,” the disembodied voice of Grodin replied. 

“Ain’t that just great?” Petersen groused. “We are allowed to do all the dirty work, so that the flyboys of the military can shine. Some things just never change, not even a new frigging _galaxy_!” 

“Well, for my part I prefer tinkering with engines to shooting at people,” Radek said, giving the now red-faced young Marine a reassuring smile. “Pay no attention to Doctor Petersen, Sergeant. He’s just envious.” 

“As if you weren’t,” Petersen said. 

Radek nodded. “Of course I am. Work would be so much easier, had I not have to pester people all the time to activate things for me. But I’m still the one who gets to figure out how things would work, once they’re activated. I’m getting better part of deal, I think.” 

Carefully, he reached into the opened access panel with the Ancient equivalent of a small screwdriver (found in Antarctica by the first expedition), only to be hurled halfway across the hangar by a violent electric charge. The landing against the bulkhead was anything but soft. 

“ _Posrat_!” he swore, cradling his injured hand with his good one. The small hairs on his forearm were charred, his skin purplish-red. He glanced at McKay in accusation. “I told you we should run full computer diagnosis first.” 

To his credit, McKay looked properly contrite. “You should go to the infirmary.” 

Radek waved impatiently. “Is nothing. Light burns, not even second grade. I’ll put some salve on them later.” 

McKay opened his mouth but Radek’s determined look silenced him. Neither of them counted on military single-mindedness, though. 

“I’m sorry, Doctor Zelenka, but I can’t allow that,” Sergeant Jamie Markham looked uncomfortable but very determined. “Regulations say that all injured personnel must seek out medical aid immediately. I’ll escort you to the infirmary. _Now_.” 

“I’ll not go to infirmary,” Radek said, annoyed by the young man’s interference. “I’m not injured – well, not much.” 

“With all due respect, Doctor Beckett will be the judge of _that_ ,” Markham replied, unmoved like a rock. “You’ll come with me, sir, or I’ll carry you there. Your choice.” 

“And just when did we decide that this is a military dictature?” Petersen asked, his irritation matching McKay’s. 

“It is not,” Markham answered calmly. “We both have our function here. You, sirs, make the discoveries. My comrades and I protect you. From your own foolishness, if necessary. And I’m sure that Doctor Weir would agree with my decision in this particular case.” 

“Radek,” Hays crawled out from under the next ship,” he’s right. There’s no need to risk an infection. These things will still be here after Carson has cleaned up your arm.” 

“And while he’s torturing me, you two will have all the fun,” Radek complained. 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Hays grinned. “None of us will touch the panel that nearly electrocuted you. It’s all yours.” 

“It wasn’t so bad,” Radek grumbled, knowing that he’d lost the argument. When his own colleagues teamed up with a Marine against him, he had no choice but to give in. 

“Say that in two days, when it starts to heal,” McKay, not a stranger to electric burns himself, warned. “You’ll be crawling up the bulkheads, unless Carson treats it properly. Shoo! I don’t want to see you here without a bandage. Sergeant, throw him over your shoulder if you have to, but he _must_ see the doctor.” 

“Yes, Doctor McKay, sir,” Markham grinned, and Radek glared at him in righteous indignation. 

“You won’t dare…” 

“Try me,” the young Marine said mildly, and something in his manner said that he _would_ do it, if he had to. Radek sighed and followed the boy to save the sorry remains of his dignity. 

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
The infirmary was fairly crowded when they arrived. Dr. Beckett’s staff was working frantically to treat the injured locals – _Athosians_ , Radek remembered, they were called _Athosians_ – that Major Sheppard had brought back from his very first Gate mission in the Pegasus galaxy. Most of them had bruises and burns, a few had broken bones, others were sitting together in a corner with guarded faces and in utter silence, but it was still obvious that they were grieving. 

“They are the relatives of those taken by the Wraith, together with the colonel and Sergeant Bates,” Markham explained quietly. 

Radek frowned. He knew that Markham had been part of that mission and, to be honest, he was morbidly fascinated by the horror stories about the vampiric aliens. 

“Sergeant, have you seen any of those… those Wraith?” he asked. 

Markham shrugged. “For a moment. A dead one. Why?” 

“What are they like?” Raked asked. 

Markham shrugged again. “They all look the same. Tall, think with very long white hair down their backs. They all wear floor-length coats. Or robes. And mesh-like masks over their faces. Major Sheppard has brought back an arm, if you want to see a piece of them.” 

“An… arm?” Radek gulped nervously. 

“Yeah,” Markham said with a bland expression on his young face. “These things are creepy. We shot down one of their ships. That frigging arm was severed and lay among the wreckage… well, not exactly _lay_. It was _dragging_ itself along with its fingers.” 

Radek shuddered. “That _is_ creepy.” 

“No, not really,” Dr. Beckett spoke up behind them. “That movement was probably an automated reaction, caused by a residual command reachin' the severed nerve endings.” 

“Like corpses sitting up in crematorium at beginning of cremating process?” Radek asked matter-of-factly. 

“A similar reaction, but different reasons,” Beckett replied in the same manner. 

Markham started getting a little green. 

“If you don’t mind, Docs, I’ll go back to the shuttle hangar now,” he said. 

Radek cocked an eyebrow. “I thought we weren’t supposed to use Star Trek terminology,” he commented. 

“Major Sheppard’s personal peeves don’t concern me,” Markham replied. “He might outrank all of us, but he’s _not_ a Marine. And a shuttle bay is a shuttle bay, whether he likes the name or not.” 

With that, he hurriedly left the infirmary. Radek and Beckett exchanged identical grins. 

“For a Marine, he has fairly weak stomach,” Radek commented. “So, if hand moving on its own is not creepy for you, what _is_ creepy?” 

“Their incredible ability to regenerate,” Beckett replied grimly. “Their cells have none of the human-inhibiting proteins. As long as they are properly nourished, the beings with a metabolism like this won’t be subjected to the natural aging process.” 

“You mean they won’t die from old age?” Radek asked. 

The doctor nodded. “Aye, and they would be bloody hard to kill, too.” 

“But not impossible?” 

“Well, beheadin' would help, I presume,” Beckett said thoughtfully, “unless they have their brains somewhere else within their bodies. But that’s unlikely. The humanoid form has the same structure everywhere, as far as we know. Anyway, why have you come to me?” 

Radek extended his injured arm. “Because I haven’t got incredible regenerative powers, myself.” 

Dr. Beckett took a look at the proffered limb. “Och. That had to hurt. What have you done?” 

“My job,” Radek shrugged. “Ancient technology is… uncooperative sometimes.” 

“Don’t I know that?” Dr. Beckett sighed. “Well, come with me and I see what I can do.” 

The next fifteen minutes were extremely unpleasant. Radek kept his eyes tightly shut while Dr. Beckett was cleaning and bandaging his arm. He was determined _not_ to cry in front of all these strangers, but it was a close call. 

“Well,” Dr. Beckett finally said, patting him on the shoulder, “I’ve done all I can. Try to keep out of the electronic equipment for the next couple o’ days, will ya?” 

“I’ll try,” Radek slid from the examination table. “Thank you.” 

He left the infirmary for the Control room with an unhappy sigh. There he contacted McKay to tell him that he wouldn’t be able to help them with the manual work for a while. Fortunately, there were such things and laptops and theoretical analysis. 

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
He worked on his laptop in tandem with McKay’s team in the shuttle hangar for several more hours, although the pain in his burned arm proved a serious hindrance. Dr. Weir came over to him and offered him a break, but he just smiled and shook his head. She was a nice lady, but he needed to work. Being useful was one of the basics of his very life. Which didn’t hinder him in listening to everything else that was going on in the Control room. 

Thus he learned that the German security team, led by Michael Naseband, had quickly and efficiently mapped the command level of Atlantis, as they called the ground and first floors of the centerpiece. They had found a number of what seemed personal quarters – small, one-room apartments with adjoining sanitary cubicles – and began to systematically assign quarters to both the expedition members and the Athosian fugitives. 

“The quarters are really small,” Naseband reported to Dr. Weir, “but at least they are near the Gate room. We can go exploring and looking for more comfortable rooms later.” 

Dr. Weir nodded. She had already worked with the competent, no-nonsense police officer in Kosovo and knew that she could count on Naseband’s organising talent. 

“I leave it in your capable hands, Mike,” she said. “Just see that the civilians and military personnel won’t be completely separated.” 

Naseband smiled, nodded and left again. For such a big, intimidating man _and_ a police officer, he was surprisingly easy-going. Theresa Weir was glad to have him and his comrades in her team. They offered a much-needed balance to the ever-present US military. 

Some members of said ever-present US military were helping the civilian security to shepherd people out of the Gate room, and the crowd gradually became less dense. Doctors Simpson and Kavanagh relocated into a nearby lab, previously discovered by one of the search teams, and started getting the equipment online, with the help of an obviously mortified Dr. Kusanagi. Radek shook his head with a rueful smile. Getting between Simpson and Kavanagh was not something he envied the shy, modest Japanese woman for. The two were fighting all the time, about just everything. The rest of the science compartment called it their mating ritual, even though nobody seriously believed that they would touch each other with a ten-foot-pole. Ever. 

Radek sighed and blinked several times to clear his blurred vision. Pain and exhaustion made concentration difficult. He could barely see the display on his laptop screen. Small wonder; he hadn’t slept since they’d left Earth. Perhaps a break would really help. 

The Gate started dialling in, so abruptly that he nearly fell from his stool. 

“Offworld activation,” Grodin reported – rather unnecessarily. 

“Shield up,” Dr. Weir ordered, and the forcefield blocked the incoming wormhole immediately. She gave it a worried look, as if not trusting it completely. Radek could understand her unease. Despite scientific facts, human nature tended to trust shields that had actual substance more. “Do we have an ID code?” she asked. 

Eddie Wong checked the laptop connected to the control console. “Nothing yet, ma’am.” 

Everyone held their breath. The incoming wormhole could be announcing the return of the rescue team – or an attack from the mysterious Wraith. Or both. The decision wasn’t an easy one. Basically, they had to choose between leaving their own people die or letting the enemy in. Radek was grateful that he wasn’t the one to make that particular choice. 

Eddie Wong now looked up in relief. “I’m reading Lieutenant Ford’s IDC.” 

Dr. Weir, too, gave a relieved sigh. “Let them in, Peter.” 

Grodin, grinning like a madman, hit the controls to lower the shield. But what came through the event horizon wasn’t the little starship but several high-energy shots, exploding against the bulkhead opposite the open Gate. Everyone dove for cover behind the consoles, including Radek, who was unpleasantly reminded of the accident with the rogue drone on Antarctica. 

_This is getting annoying_ , he thought, ducking and clutching the laptop against his chest to protect the already saved data. 

But curiosity soon got the better of him, and he looked around the corner of the console. Just in time to see the small spaceship race through the Gate and stop immediately after getting through. To his honest amazement, none of the crew came flying through its front windscreen. 

“ _Cubcí syn_ ,” he whispered in absolute awe, “that little thing must have great inertial dampeners. I’d give an arm to take a closer look…” 

“You nearly have, Doc,” Jamie Markham said, grabbing him and pulling him back behind the console. “Now, stay put till we get the situation under control.” 

At the same time, Radek could hear Dr. Weir shouting. “Reactivate the shield!” 

Grodin must have hit the button, as the shield came back up immediately – the Gate was huge enough to be seen from his hiding place. There were two loud thuds on the shield, as if it still were under heavy fire, then the Gate shut down. The small ship rose up towards its bay, and everyone in the Gate room – well, everyone save those currently on duty – ran off after it. Radek was no exception. An elephant couldn’t have held him back. Not while those inertial dampeners were still in that ship, unexamined. 

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
When he reached the shuttle bay, the rescue team – and the rescued ones – were already leaving the ship. Radek couldn’t see among them Colonel Sumner, but Sergeant Bates was there, and none of the rescue team members were missing. The others were Athosians: a pretty athletic, dark-skinned woman in her late twenties, with a disturbingly weird hair colour that could by no means have been produced by nature, and a tall – very tall, – strikingly handsome man with long hair and gentle eyes. 

Once again, Radek was reminded of a sword-and-sorcery movie. This man could have made an amazing Rider of Rohan in the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy, or a fierce Viking in “The Thirteenth Warrior” – save for the gentleness of his eyes. As Radek was watching, one of the Athosian children, a boy of perhaps twelve years, shot out of the welcoming crowd and threw himself against the man with a ferocity that would have tipped over a less centered person. 

“Father! I’m glad you are safe!” 

“So am I, Jinto,” the man kneeled down, laid his hands upon the shoulders of his son, and they both inclined their heads, touching their foreheads together in a gesture of ultimate fondness. Even kneeling, the man was several inches taller than the boy. After just a moment he released his son and turned to one of the young women who was approaching him slowly. 

The woman was wearing baggy trousers and a wide-cut tunic in sober greys and blacks; very different from the bright and warm colours most other Athosians seemed to prefer. She looked twenty, perhaps twenty-five years old, with a soft, heart-shaped face and lush, wavy dark hair that didn’t quite reach her shoulders. Her eyes were dark, too, her eyebrows almost horizontal, which have ger otherwise plain face a slightly exotic touch. 

“Toran?” she asked the tall man softly. 

The man shook his head. “I’m sorry, Marta.” 

The woman nodded with a guarded expression on her gentle face, as if she’d expected the answer. The man leaned forward, repeating the gesture of greeting with her. 

“If I can help…” he began, but she stopped him, laying a small hand upon his chest. 

“No. You know you cannot. Thank you, Halling.” 

She nodded gravely, turned around and left without hurrying, without a further word, but with great dignity. Radek looked back and forth between them, trying to figure out what had just happened. He could not even imagine the role those two people would play in his life one day. 

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
Later on that day – at nighttime, actually – Dr. Weir decided to throw a ‘getting to know each other’-party in the Control Room. By that time Radek had already got the gist of the events on both Athos and the Wraith planet from Lieutenant Ford, who had even showed him the records of his helmet camera, and it was enough for him to expect nightmares for the next couple of weeks. 

Currently, he was standing a little aside with Doctors McKay and Beckett, sipping on a very small amount of General O’Neill’s champagne, served in a rather unceremonial steel mug. They were watching the Atlantis crew milling around with the Athosians, who seemed to enjoy themselves enormously. McKay was gnawing on a thin kebab – or, at least, the Athosian equivalent of it. 

“Are they really planning to go back to their homeworld?” Radek asked, having picked up the rumour in Dr. Weir’s office shortly before. 

“Not permanently,” McKay answered, with his mouth full, “but they want to try saving whatever from their belongings survived the Wraith attack.” 

“It’s still an awfully big risk,” Radek said. 

McKay shrugged. “They’ve left behind literally _everything_. It’s understandable that they want to get some of their stuff back. And they have a lot of experience with the Wraith. Unlike us.” 

Radek still thought the risk was too great. On the other hand, he could understand the urge to save at least something from one’s home. So he chose to shut up and watch the Athosians some more. The woman with the weird orange hair was just taking Major Sheppard’s head in her hands to touch their foreheads together in the same gesture the tall man, Halling, did with his son. Sheppard seemed surprisingly uncomfortable by her attention. 

Dr. Beckett followed Radek’s look and pulled a face. He was a warm and friendly teddy bear of a man but, as Radek had discovered not so long ago, a bit jealous of the youthful brashness of all those Marines around them. 

“How come I never make friends like that?” the doctor asked bitterly. 

McKay was still gnawing on his kebab, which occupied the majority of his attention. “You need to get out more,” he replied absent-mindedly. 

Beckett gave him a sour look. “We’re in another _galaxy_ , Rodney,” he declared. “How much more out can you get?” 

And yet, even out here, some things seemed never to change. Like the almost universal fact that women were attracted to uniforms. 

McKay wasn’t listening to the doctor anymore. He was looking at his kebab in a slightly panicked way. “Is that lemons?” he demanded. Without waiting for an answer, he stormed off to check it with the cook of the day, sparing his company his usual dramatics about a deadly citrus allergy. 

“Whatever it is, it tastes greet,” Beckett commanded. “I think I’m gonna like Athosian cuisine.” 

Radek nodded absently. “Do you know who Major Sheppard’s new bestest friend is?” he asked. 

Beckett shrugged. “Apparently, she’s the leader of the Athosians.” 

“With _that_ hair?” Radek asked sarcastically. Then he turned serious. “I thought that tall man was leader.” 

“Nah, Lieutenant Ford was positive that Teyla’s the boss. Although,” Beckett added thoughtfully, “I’d have picked Halling, too. The truth is, we don’t know a thing about their society. Doctor Corrigan will have fun to figure it out, I think.” 

Radek nodded in agreement and kept watching. 

“That hair,” he said again, after a while. “It seems… unnatural.” 

“Coloured,” Beckett said with a shrug. “With henna or something similar, most likely. People on Earth have used henna for the same purpose for millennia.” 

He finished his own kebab and licked his fingers clean, completely unfazed by the audience. 

“Well,” he said then, “are you ready to introduce our new friends to Earth music?” 

Radek looked at the young, good-looking Marines who were outdoing each other to catch the eye of the Athosian women… and shook his head. 

“I do not think so. I feel not up to competition.” 

Besides, he felt exhausted, and his arm throbbed. Going to bed would be the smart thing to do. He nodded to Beckett and initiated a tactical withdrawal. 

He was almost out of the door when someone joined him. He must have been very tired, because it took him a second look to recognize in the petite blonde Alexandra Rietz. 

“Doctor Zelenka,” she said with that hard German accent that sounded so strange in her soft voice, “you’re leaving already?” 

He nodded. “It has been a long day, Detective Rietz. I’m very tired.” 

“You shouldn’t walk around on your own, then,” Rietz said. “I’ll see you home.” 

“That not necessary, Detective!” Radek protested, but Rietz just gave him one of those bright smiles that always made abundantly clear that she was _not_ going to give in. 

“Humour me, please,” she said, already following him out. 

Radek sighed, wondering if any of them would ever be allowed to roam over Atlantis without an escort, but stopped protesting. At least Rietz was small and pretty and blonde – and most definitely female. And he liked blondes. Even if they only provided him company on a professional basis. 

Rietz escorted him to his quarters, wished him a hood night and left him alone. Radek undressed and fell onto the unfamiliar – but not too uncomfortable – bed unceremoniously. His first day on Atlantis was now officially over. 

He only hoped that the following ones would be shorter and less dramatic. 

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ***  
The next couple of days were spent with frantic work. They established several labs on the command level and worked on integrating the _naquadah_ generators into Atlantis’ energy grid instead of the completely depleted ZPMs. On the fourth day Kirkitadze publicly revised his opinion about having too many engineers in the expedition team. As it looked, they had far too few engineers to deal with all that Ancient technology and the incompatibility problems that kept popping up at the most inappropriate times. 

Radek got his own lab, and he got to work with Paul Hays, Dr. Kusanagi and a German technician named Katja Hansen. Well, technician might have been her status here, but she was a good engineer of her own: calm, competent and thorough, with a dry sense of humour that both Radek and Hays liked a lot. 

Dr. Kusanagi seemed terrified by it, but it was obvious that Dr. Hansen terrified the slight Japanese scientist as a whole, being a head taller, with short, straw-blonde hair, a long, stern face and the ugliest glasses in two galaxies. Despite all this, they worked well together, and Dr. Kusanagi thanked her ancestors daily that they saved her from being stuck into the same lab with Simpson and Kavanagh again. 

On the fourth day, the throbbing of Radek’s arm had become so painful that he was forced to go to the infirmary voluntarily. The medical staff was still busily giving the Athosians physicals, so that they could create a list of physical similarities and differences between them and Earth-born humans. As Dr. Beckett explained, the only significant difference was that the part of the Athosian brain that regulated speech was twice the size of its Earth counterpart. Which was the reason why Athosians picked up new languages without any visible effort. 

“And that’s why most of them can already speak English fairly well,” Dr. Beckett concluded, removing the bandage from Radek’s arm – and wincing at the sight. “Och. That doesn’t look well. I’ll have to give you a thorough antiseptic treatment.” 

“I don’t know what that is, but peeling off the burnt skin and treat the layer below with _othrin_ salve would help,” a blonde Athosian woman in her early thirties commented, walking by and giving the arm a cursory look. 

“That is Anika,” Dr. Beckett introduced her, “the healer and herbalist of the Athosian settlement. She knows her herbs, I'm told. So, Anika, do you have any experience with burns?” 

“Of course,” the woman named Anika shrugged. “Wraith weapons can cause hideous burns, when they are out to destroy our homes, so that we cannot hide from the culling beams. Fortunately, _othrin_ salve heals burns without scarring. At least by my own people,” she added, responsible healer as she was. 

Beckett looked at Radek. “Wanna give it a try? It’s more than what I could offer. Sometimes old methods _can_ beat modern medicine.” 

Radek wasn’t exactly happy about the idea, but Carson Beckett seemed to trust the Athosian woman’s abilities, so he gave in. The process was painful, but not overly so – the worst part was the strong odour of the salve. He decided against asking questions about the ingredients. If it worked, it was good enough for him. 

“What is with Wraith arm?” he asked Dr. Beckett after the treatment. “Have you found out new things about it?” 

Beckett shrugged. “I let Doctor Biro play with it.” Dr. Biro was their pathologist, so taking a severed arm apart was exactly her field of expertise. “Besides, I need more time to work on my gene therapy.” 

“Gene therapy?” Radek’s ears perked up. “You think you can give us artificial Ancient gene, so we can all handle technology here without dragging more lucky ones into our labs?” 

“That’s the basic idea, yes,” Beckett smiled, clearly amused by his enthusiasm. “I’ve been workin' on it for months, back on Earth. I hope that with the new insights we’re achievin' here, the process will be sped up. But it isnae an easy thing.” 

“Oh,” Radek felt his excitement rise. “Tell me more about it. It’s manipulating human DNA, yes?” 

Beckett sighed. “Aye, in a nutshell it is. The Ancient technology activation seems to be caused by a single gene that’s always workin'. It’s continually instructin' various cells in the body to produce a series of proteins and enzymes that interact with the skin, the nervous system, and the brain.” 

“Sounds complicated,” Radek said. “Is it, you know, risky?" 

“Experimental gene therapy is _always_ risky,” Beckett admitted. “That’s why we’re gonna work with volunteers.” 

“Ask McKay,” Radek suggested smugly. “I’m certain he would be eager to be first one with new ATA gene.” 

“What about you?” Beckett teased. 

“I’ll wait to see if McKay survives treatment,” Radek answered mildly, looking down at his red and glistening forearm. “I think I’ve been playing hamster already. That’s enough for one engineer.” 

“That’s guinea pig, not hamster,” Beckett grinned. 

“Is rodent, too,” Radek said with a shrug. “Well, I must go back to lab and be one-armed bandit.” 

“Be _what_?” Beckett stared at him completely dumbfounded. 

Radek waved with his freshly treated arm. “I cannot go near sensitive equipment with greasy arm. So I will work with one hand only.” 

“Och,” Beckett said. “That’s gonna be… bothersome.” 

“Not really,” Radek grinned. “My brain works perfectly well. Anyone else can type on laptop. So I get to do interesting part and can leave boring part to someone else – and people will even feel sorry for me!” 

For a moment, Beckett couldn’t even speak. This point of view would never occur to him. Not in a thousand years. 

“You’re a sneaky one,” he finally said. 

Radek nodded seriously. “It’s method for small and weak people to fool bigger and stronger ones. Survival tactic. Good day, Carson. Thanks for help and information.” 

He waved his good-byes and jogged off the infirmary, towards his lab. 

**~The End - for now~**


End file.
